The life of a 20-something cancer patient: The Dance

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: The Dance: I have been extremely fortunate to meet, and interact with many lovely people, but one particular person will forever hold a special place i...

The Dance

I have been extremely fortunate to meet, and interact with many lovely people, but one particular person will forever hold a special place in my heart.  He is an extraordinary gentleman in a number of ways.  This singular man has taught so much about life, and fully embracing each moment presented to us.  Most of all he has shown me the power of healing.  He has reignited my hope, and courage by witnessing his incredible strength, and determination.  This is Henrik's(Henry) story.

About two months ago Henry fell into a coma after a surgery.  In his younger years, he was an exquisite ballroom dancer.  Born in Austria, Henry started dancing at the age of 3.  By the time he was 9 he had moved to the United States with his mom to pursue his dream of being a competitive dancer.  He wanted nothing more than to be a world-renown phoneme, whom would change the perspective of ballroom dancing.  That is also when he changed his name to Henry.  His coach thought an Austrian name would hold him back in the competitive dance circuit.  He would do anything to improve his chances of becoming a successful dancer, so from that day on, he only addressed himself as Henry.

Henry has shared with me positively charming stories about his competitive dance days time, and time again.  The stories never grew tiresome because Henry told them with such passion.  His face would light up when he talked about his favorite dances.  He remembered every step, and every song.  Occasionally he would stop mid-story, and hum these absolutely romantic melodies.  He would lose himself in these memories.  I could see him being transported back to such a wonderful time.  He would escape cancer, and all his pain by reliving these glorious dances.  He created these beautifully peaceful moments for us both.  It was the most amazing sight.  I felt like I was on the dance floor with him.

Henry was never at a loss for funny, and interesting narratives.  One of my favorites is his story about the exacerbating process it took for him to find a dance partner.  We have laughed over, and over about the struggles he had finding the perfect dance partner.  He never had anything nice to say about these ladies.  The women were either too clumsy, too slow, or two high maintenance.  The names he called them were hilarious.  Luckily, after two years, he found the perfect girl.  Weeding through the slew of terrible partners was over at last.  He found his match, and once again he experienced his true love for every aspect of the dance.

He would explain that when he danced he had no worries, or cares in the world.  He could forget about life for a while, and glide across the dance floor.  After Henry fell into the coma, I would go into his room and play the music from his favorite dance.  Sometimes I would talk to him while the song was playing.  I would go through each dance step to the best of my memory.  He always said that he was floating on air when he danced, so I made sure to always say that. 

The day Henry came out of his coma, he asked his nurse to find out if I was in the hospital.  He wanted to see me.  I was paged by his nurses station.  I wasn't expecting the page, so I was anxious to find out the reason I had been summoned.  In healthcare the news is usually very good, or very bad.  There is no in-between.  My heart was beating out of control as I stepped out of the elevator, and onto the cold white tile of his hospital floor.  I slowly walked up to the nurses station, still overwhelmed by anxiety.  I told(my voice cracking a bit) the petite gray-haired woman that I was Megan Kleinman.  She stopped me mid-sentence, and said that she recognized me from my visits with Henry.  I was flattered that she remembered me, but I was still uncertain why I was asked to come up to Henry's floor.  She didn't give me any information.  She only told me that someone in Henry's room wanted to see me.  I told her thank you, and nervously made my way to his room.  I was unaware what I would find when I entered his room.  It was a matter of life, or death.  Like I explained earlier, with matters of health it was either really good, or really bad.  I arrived at his door, and I was on the verge of a panic attack.  I took a deep breath, and gently pushed the door open.  Thankfully I was welcomed by the most incredible sight.  After two months, Henry woke up!  I was elated!  I ran over to give him a huge hug.  As we embraced he whispered in my ear...thanks for all the dances.

 
I was overcome by emotion.  I held him tighter, as we shared tears of joy.  The power of the mind, and body never cease to amaze me.  Even in a comatose state he heard the music I played for him.  He was dancing along side me every time!  He was unable to respond to it at the time, but he assured me he was dancing.  We were floating on air.

His life reminds me of a passage from my favorite poem by Frost. "I like to get away from earth for a while, and then come back to it, and begin over."

Henry needed to leave earth for a while so he could begin again stronger, and with a clear head.  He needed to be transported back to a carefree, and happier time, so he could continue his fight.

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: World Cancer Day

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: World Cancer Day: Today is World Cancer Day.  Although I am grateful that there is a set day for the world to recognized cancer, one day can't begin to sc...

World Cancer Day

Today is World Cancer Day.  Although I am grateful that there is a set day for the world to recognized cancer, one day can't begin to scratch the surface of this horrible disease.  I don't understand the purpose of these singular days to support, or identify cancer.  I must sound terribly cynical, and vapid, but I cannot comprehend what makes one day more superior than another to acknowledge such an awful illness.  Cancer patients around the world deal with the difficulties of this disease 365 days a year.  I would prefer that "supporters" would take an hour, 30 minutes, or even 15 minutes out of their days, or weeks to spend with a cancer sufferer.

I am, in no way, trying to discredit organizations for supporting, and/or fundraising for cancer patients and cancer research.  Those organizations have achieved many goals, as well as, have brought cancer awareness to many people.  I only know what I witness on a daily basis.  Sure, my perception may come from a more emotional mindset, rather than a logical frame of mind.  My opinion is also more likely skewed because I, myself, am a cancer patient, but I know what I know.  I know what I see, and I know what I feel.  Cancer is not a something to be taken lightly.  Cancer is not a team that you can jump on the bandwagon of.  I have heard this from many of my friends dealing with cancer, but I can only speak for myself when I say, I wouldn't care if were no more "cancer days".

Again, I must sound outrageously cynical, and pretentious.  That is not my intention.  I just want to share the feelings of many cancer patients I know.  I don't, by any means, speak for them all.  I'm sure many people affected by cancer look forward to world and/or national cancer days.  I am happy for all whom participate at theses gatherings.  I have attended many events myself, but I have felt like an outcast.  Strange, I know.  I wasn't expecting to have that reaction, or to feel so diminished.  I thought I would feel welcomed, and comforted at a function promoting cancer care.  Turns out I don't fit the idealized vision of a cancer patient.  Instead of being uplifted, and encouraged by these events, I am left feeling invisible, and unworthy of the cause.

I am approaching my five year anniversary(April 3rd), and I have not attended a "cancer day celebration" in three years.  I do, very much appreciate the nation, and the world validating cancer, and cancer research.  I prefer to acknowledge cancer, and fight cancer on a smaller scale.  Spending time with those affected by cancer both directly, and indirectly, has brought me to a better understanding of this atrocious disease.

Many victims of this horrific illness fight in silence.  They live in fear of what their future holds, but are more afraid to burden their friends and family with their struggle.  I am the perfect example of that.  It took me a couple years of battling this disease before I began speaking out.  All it took was one person who REALLY listened to what I had to say.  That one person changed my outlook on life with, and without cancer.  That is why I give my time to the patients I encounter at hospitals, and cancer centers.  It only takes one person, one moment to change a life.  Will you take the time to change a life?  If you can, please volunteer your time to someone around you going through a difficulties, or challenges.  We all need a voice of reason, an ear to hear us, a hand to hold, and a heart to care.  Friendship and love have more healing powers than any "cancer day".

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Trigger

The life of a 20-something cancer patient: Trigger: About 6 weeks ago a fellow elderly cancer patient friend of mine had a stroke, as a result of the tumor on her brain.  The stroke left her w...

Trigger

About 6 weeks ago a fellow elderly cancer patient friend of mine had a stroke, as a result of the tumor on her brain.  The stroke left her with virtually complete memory loss, as well as, some loss of motor function.  Before her stroke, Beverly was a vivacious, and lively woman.  She had many friends and family visit her.  One of her "regular" visitors was her son, Peter.  He visited her daily.  On many occasions he also brought his wife, and two young children to see Beverly.  After her stroke, I noticed that he stopped visiting Bev.  My curiosity got the best of me, and asked the nurse staff why Peter was no longer visiting.  The nurses expressed to me that it was difficult on the kids, as well as himself, to visit a woman who can't remember who they are.

Hearing this broke my heart.  I wondered if there was any way I could help.  I questioned many nurses, and my own doctors about any methods being used to jump start her memory.  They explained to me that using picture flash cards with a mix of naming everyday objects, solving simple math problems, and spelling words was a beneficial exercise for the brain, and triggering memories.  Beverly was working with a therapist, using these techniques to strengthen her brain function.  Unfortunately, the family could only afford Bev to have therapy sessions twice a week.  At that pace, it would take months for Beverly to regain her missing memories.  That was unacceptable to me, so I took it upon myself to go through the flash cards with her every day I was at the hospital.  I experienced, first hand, the flash cards strengthening her brain function.  While going through the flash cards, and for a little while after going through them, Bev would tell me stories about her past.  It was wonderful to see her progression.  The nurses and docs were thrilled with how well she was doing.  I was ecstatic, and knew it was time to call her son.

Beverly's doctor called Peter to share her progress with him, and encouraged him to visit.  He was happy to hear about her positive strides, and he agreed to visit her the next day(2-1-2014).  I made sure to be with Bev before her son's arrival, so we could go through the flash cards, and trigger those memories.  I was sitting in her room with my back was turned to the hallway, but the moment I saw her face light up, I knew her son and his family were there.  She recognized all of them!  She remembered!  The family shared hugs, kisses and laughter.  It was a beautiful moment!  I was honored to witness such a wonderful reunion.

I received a phone call from Bev's son this morning.  Her cancer took her away from this earth while she was sleeping.  He called to thank me for bringing his family together one last time.  His voice cracked on the other end of the phone line as he told me that I gave his family peace, and closure that the family needed.  He went on to explain that he let his stubbornness, and fear get the best of him.  Lastly, he told me if it wasn't for what I did, he wouldn't have had that last beautiful day with his mom.  He thanked me once more before hanging up the phone.  I held it together the best I could during the call, but the second the call ended, I broke down.  Tears of sadness, and tears absolute joy streamed down my face.

My heart is weeping due to the passing of Beverly, but my heart is also rejoicing that her son, and her grandchildren have the unforgettable memories of their last day with Bev.